Royai Week 2019: A Collection of One-Shots
by RealityBreakGirl
Summary: Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye have been together for years, in one way or another. Using the themes of Coincidence, Meanings, Flashover, Pinned, Unfinished Business, Revival, and Trapped, take a peek into some of the moments that have happened over the years. Written for Royai Week 2019, published a lot later.
1. Day 1: Coincidence

Royai Week, 2019  
Day 1—Coincidence  
Word count: 1,876  
Author: Katie/Ally (scentedbygunpowder)  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Under stress from being a living hostage for the homunculi and knowing that Pride could very well be watching her every move, Riza Hawkeye spends sometime in the marketplace crowds, hoping to feel less alone, and less afraid.

**Coincidence**

"Lieutenant?"

Riza looked up from her shopping in surprise and swiveled her head around, looking for the voice. It was only when she saw another woman responding, and smiling at another soldier that was nearby that she realized that her hopes had risen at the familiar word. The man's tone wasn't even that close to the one she wanted to hear. She must just be that desperate. She felt her heart fall a bit, before she steeled herself. How silly of her, to think she'd run into the Colonel out here.

No, she knew that neither she nor the Colonel could afford to be together right now. There were too many people watching them—too many eyes on them. She shuddered a little as she thought about Selim Bradley, Pride, watching her from the shadows. Those tendrils and little hands, and the eyes she could just feel. No. No matter how badly she wanted to see Roy Mustang, Riza knew that she shouldn't hope. They couldn't risk meeting outside of work. They could barely risk meeting at work.

There was a slight whine, at her side, and Riza looked down to see Hayate, whining a bit, then wagging his tail at her, as if he were trying to cheer her up. She smiled at her dog. He really was a good boy, trying to stay positive for her lately. She was certain he could sense how stressed and afraid she was. Riza readjusted the basket she had, reaching to pay the vendor for the fruits she had bought and then with a "Come on, boy," turned to face the crowds again.

The market was often lively at this time of day, the crowds made up of both people coming home from work, and people heading out for a little fun. You could see all sorts, from the beleaguered mother trying to reign in her enthusiastic kids, to the couples walking hand in hand, to the people who were dead tired and just wanted to get home. Talking, shouting, playing and oftentimes music and singing could be heard breaking out there and there as people just interacted with each other. It really was a nice feel, and something that Riza had always enjoyed. She enjoyed it more now, because it made her feel at least a little more connected to the world, instead of just feeling like a hostage.

Riza turned to head home, walking along and enjoying the moment of life around her, enjoying just blending in, in civilian clothes for once. Her basket was weighty, full of vegetables and fruits, and ingredients for her to go home and fix herself a supper. But tonight she didn't want to leave the market. She didn't want to leave the life around her. She wanted to stay here, and not go back to her cold apartment where it felt like she could feel the shadows spying on her constantly.

A familiar and delicious smell caught her attention, the cooking of a little local street café that was one of her favorites. It was incredibly popular, and the chances of her getting a seat at it, at this time of night, was not very likely. But still, she was going to try. If nothing else, Riza could get herself something to carry home, and instead stop and eat it somewhere here in the market. The prospect was enticing, and she found herself moving just that little bit quicker towards the café.

It was, as expected, crowded and lively. The opposite corner had an impromptu band that seemed to have struck up, and everyone was clearly enjoying themselves. However, she was able to, surprisingly, find a seat at the café, and there was even enough room for Hayate to settle under her feet. The waitress came, took her order and left again, leaving Riza to her thoughts and observations.

For a while, she didn't think about anything in particular, just letting herself observe the atmosphere around her. She could pretend, even for a moment, that things were normal, that she wasn't under all the pressure she was, that there wasn't a grand conspiracy at the highest levels of the government, that her team (friends, family) weren't scattered around the country, their lives in danger. For a moment, she could pretend that things were as they were supposed to be.

"Excuse me? Ma'am?"

Riza was brought out her reverie by the voice of the waitress, and looked up at the girl. "Yes?" she responded.

"Well, as you can see, we're pretty busy tonight, and it's crowded. If you're alone, would you mind sharing your table with other customers?" The waitress bit her lip a bit, her fingers linking together as she asked.

The poor thing was nervous, and Riza smiled at her, trying to put her at ease. "Of course," she said. "I don't mind at all."

The waitress let out a breath, and her eyes seemed to lighten a bit. "Thank you very much, ma'am. I really appreciate it!" Much lighter then she came, the waitress dashed off, and Riza smiled, returning herself to her observations.

"Lieutenant?"

Her heart stopped, her eyes widened as she heard that voice, and she turned to look. Standing next to her table, a beautiful woman on his arm, was Roy Mustang.

"Colonel!" she said in surprise, making to stand before he motioned her back down. "We're not in the office, Lieutenant, and off duty. Don't worry about it."

"Of course, sir." She replied, looking curiously between him and the woman.

"Oh dear—oh—is this going to be a problem?" The nervous waitress asked.

For a moment their eyes met, and it was the connection that Riza had been missing.

"No, not at all," he said, smiling at the waitress. "She's a work friend," he explained. "I'm sure that Veronica won't mind, will you?"

The girl on his arm giggled, and Riza tried to categorize her name. Ah, yes. Veronica. One of his sisters. She felt herself relax a bit. Nothing to worry about then.

"No, not at all! I want to meet more of your friends, Roy!" Veronica said.

The waitress looked relieved, and left to go bring them some drinks, while Roy pulled out a chair for Veronica and then sat down himself.

"I didn't expect to see you here, sir," Riza commented. "Especially not on a date."

"Well, Veronica wanted to go shopping, and then I told her about this place. After all, I do believe it was you who recommended it to me before." He said.

"Oh did you?" Veronica asked. "How did you find it?"

"It was recommended to me by a friend. She had eaten here before when she was in the city. I believe it was on a date. The date was abysmal, if I remember correctly, but she said that the food was divine." She watched Roy almost choke on the water he had just been brought. "I can't speak for her date, but she was right about the food."

Veronica giggled again. "Your friend sounds like a fun time!"

"If its Catalina, she is," Roy muttered with a slight scowl.

Riza turned a placid smile on him. "As a matter of fact, it was. You can't deny that she was right about the food here, though, Colonel."

"No, that's true," he admitted, settling an arm around Veronica. Riza tried not to let her eyes linger on it too long. "So what brings you here, Lieutenant?"

"Hayate and I were out shopping. But to be honest I was tired, and didn't want to make supper tonight. I could smell the food from here, and decided to stop." She explained, picking up her own water.

"Hayate?" Veronica asked.

"Yes. My dog," Riza explained. "Hayate, come." She said. The dog stood obediently and Veronica immediately began cooing over the dog. Hayate didn't move until he received Riza's command that let him go see the other woman, who immediately began showering the pup with attention, much to his delight.

"It seems working for the Fuhrer is hard," Roy said, raising his eyebrows.

Riza could hear the unspoken question in there. _Are you alright?_

"It keeps me busy, but I've been busier," she responded. _I'm alright._

"Still, I'm surprised to see you out. I know he keeps you late often." _Is everything alright? Are you being followed? Watched?_

"He does, but tonight he let me go early, and decided it would be nice to spend some time among other people." _Yes I am. I needed to be around people tonight._

The Colonel's eyebrow raised slightly. "I see. You should spent some time with some friends then, Lieutenant. Go have some fun." _Remember that if it gets too much, you have allies here._

"I wouldn't want to bother them, sir. Not when I'm sure they're just as tired as I am." _I don't want to drag them into this unless it's absolutely necessary. It's too dangerous._

"I trust you know what you're doing, Lieutenant. Although I still think you should loosen up and have a little fun. Hey, Veronica! Don't you know someone that would be good for the Lieutenant here?" _Please be careful. Remember your contacts. Let's get one in touch with you._

"Hm?" Veronica looked up from Hayate, blinking as if she hadn't heard the conversation, then lighting up as the last question registered. "Ohhh, I bet Gerrard would be good for her! Or maybe, if you like them more exotic, Miss Lieutenant, Jean-Luc. He's an experienced one!"

Veronica chattered on about the different men she could set Riza up with—different contacts, they all knew—and they talked amicably about such things for a bit, only stopping when the food had arrived, and they all dug in. It was, as usual, delicious, and Veronica declared that it was to die for. It wasn't long after that, that they all stood to leave, Veronica once again on Roy's arm.

"Well, our date night has just begun," Mustang said, "And there's plenty more to do. But I trust I'll see you around tomorrow, Lieutenant?" _We have more information to gather. Will you be okay?_

"Then I hope you have a good time," she said, looping Hayate's leash around her wrist and picking up her basket. "I'm sure we'll at least see each other in passing." _Good luck. I'll be alright._

"Then have a good night, Lieutenant." Roy said, a slight tip of his hat to her. _Be safe._

"Bye, Riza!" Veronica called back as the two began to walk away. "I'll see about setting you up with someone! I'll send the details with Roy here!" _I'll set you up a contact too. And give you a reason to talk to Roy._

Riza laughed. "I'll look forward to it. Thank you." _Thank you for giving me a reason to talk to him._

She watched them walk away for a moment, settling her basket on her arm a little better before she too sat out for home. Her heart felt lighter, and her steps more sure as she walked, Hayate trotting by her side. Perhaps it was just foolishness, but this was just the coincidence that she needed tonight.


	2. Day 2: Mortal and Immortal

Royai Week, 2019  
Day 2 - Mortal/immortal  
Word count: 1,832  
Author: Katie/Ally (scentedbygunpowder)  
Rating: T  
Summary: Mortal. Immortal. People throw those words around. And yet over the years and over events Riza Hawkeye has learned the meanings of them in different ways.

**Meanings**

Immortal. She heard what the soldier said. She heard the rumors. The State Alchemists, they were immortal, the whispers said. That's why they could command the power that they did. Everyone know that alchemist were looking for immortality. The State Alchemists, they said, found it. Anyone who got close to them died. No one every touched them, and the few enemies that did, well, they ended up dead, and the State Alchemists, though injured, were still alive. Immortal. That was what all the soldiers said. The State Alchemists were immortal, and would save all their lives, the lives of the mortal men they were.

Riza Hawkeye did not believe that. She knew better as she took aim. She lined the shot up, the head clear through the crosshairs of her scope. She could see him, clear as day, as well as the other figures about. But only one concerned her right now. Only one of the figures was her focus. She shifted to his hands for a moment, thinking of that shot instead. A shot that would save lives. A shot that would prevent others from dying, and him as well. That shot was the better shot, for morality's sake. But it wasn't the better shot for a soldier. His head was back in her crosshairs, her finger on the trigger. And with one slight motion, she fired.

And Ishvalan man fell. Mortal.

A State Alchemist lived. Immortal.

Riza knew the truth. No one here was Immortal. And she could prove it with a single shot.

Hours later, she looked into eyes that looked into hers, knowing that they could read her knowledge of mortality and immortality in her eyes. His reflected that knowledge for himself, as well. They both knew the truth.

She sat on the stairs, fingers laced together, elbows propped on her knees, her mouth resting on the edge of her hands. She took deep breaths in, and deep breaths out, her eyes hard and staring ahead at nothing. The sound of footsteps coming up this narrow staircase made her eyes flick briefly over towards the source of the noise, but other than that she didn't moved as the Colonel made his way up the stairs towards her. He didn't say a word, he just sat beside her, his knees bent and next to hers, his hands loosely clasped in front of him.

"We're not sure who did it yet," he finally said. "But Hughes tells me it bears a resemblance to other murders. They've all been of state alchemists, or people who've gotten between him and the state alchemist he was after."

She was still silent, taking it in.

"Is that what happened?" She finally said. "Did she get between them?"

"The investigators don't think so. They think that she was killed after him."

"She would have," Riza said, her voice quiet. "If she knew what was going on, she would have gotten between them. Even after—" She cut off, swallowing hard, tension entering her shoulders further.

The Colonel—Roy—sighed and shifted, putting his arm around her shoulders. She didn't relax into it.

"You shouldn't do that. Anyone could—"

"Hughes is watching, okay?" he cut her off. "I know how this case must be getting to you. Just… allow yourself this. And let me help you."

After a moment, she relented, leaning into him slightly. The quiet enveloped them again.

"Why, Roy? Why would he do that? What would he treat his daughter like that! Turn her into—" she cut off again.

He sighed again, and pulled her in closer. "Because he wanted what we all want—Immortality. If we're known for our accomplishments, if our achievements can be known and built off of, then it's the closest to immortality we can get."

"Immortality. There's no such thing. He was mortal the same as anyone else. And so was Nina. If anyone deserved better, it was her, but not like that. No… not like that. She deserved so much better."

"I know." He didn't try to refute her words. He just pulled her in, and gave her a kiss on the temple and let her work through her emotions.

Riza screamed. She screamed and screamed and pulled the trigger over and over again, replacing the clip, replacing the gun. No. No! She knew better than anyone that he was mortal, but at the same time, he couldn't be dead! He couldn't!

Why? Why was he mortal, and the corrupted woman immortal? Why was she still alive and he dead!

Nothing she could do would touch this immortal lady, and she fell to her knees as the woman still stayed standing, Riza's own mortality shinning in face as the woman's unreal hands shot to end her life. She didn't care. She welcomed it. Even as she argued with a boy that wasn't nearly as mortal as she was, but yet wasn't immortal either, she welcomed death.

Until she heard his voice.

All of the rumors of State Alchemists being immortal flashed through her head again, and she fought to get to him. She knew the rumors had no truth to it, but she knew that lady was immortal, or at least as immortal as she had ever seen. But as Roy Mustang burned the woman over and over again, until she was dead, and he stayed on his feet, until he couldn't anymore. She wonder, for a moment, if the tables had been turned somewhere, and no one told her.

She hoped someone told her next time. Her heart couldn't take this twice.

She held Hayate in her arms, reveling in his warmth, but unable to ignore the sting of the cut on her cheek. Fear coursed through her just as much as a deep ache did. Hayate was wonderful, but she wished that she was holding Roy in her arms, that he was here, that they were still working, hand in hand, to take down a corrupt regime instead of facing down immortal monsters.

That woman, Lust, was one.

The fat one, Gluttony, was one.

Fuhrer King Bradley was one.

And Selim Bradley was one.

How many more were there? How many near immortal beings were there? How many did they, mortal being as they were, still have to face down?

She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that. She turned off all the lights, blocked out as much light as she could, hoping to keep Selim away from her. When she heard something outside of her front door, she didn't go look. It wasn't until the next morning when she opened the door that she saw the vase sitting there, overflowing with flowers, and she had to smile.

She shook as she aimed the gun at the back of his head. She knew her duty. She knew what she had to do. She knew better then to think that that creature, Envy was immortal. No, everyone here was mortal, and she hoped that she didn't have to prove it—because if she did, she would prove it at least twice.

He turned, looking at her, and she saw the conflict in his eyes, matching hers, even as he pushed her gun hand down.

"I've done it again. I've hurt you."

The words made her weak in the knees as they signaled the end to the stress, and she collapsed with him, not even caring as the creature called Envy tried to pit them against each other. No, all she cared about right now was the mortality she didn't have to prove.

He held her in his arms, and she was barely aware of it. The last bits of her were fading, and she couldn't respond to his desperate pleas. He had survived. Of course he had. That old rumor of State Alchemists being immortal reared its head again. But she was just a normal woman, and she was mortal.

She was dying.

And for all his power, he could do nothing about it.

There was a shift, and something warm, something healing surged through her, concentrating itself in her neck, in her wound, and something felt repaired, although not strong. She could feel his arms around her again, and she opened her eyes to meet his.

This wasn't immortality, but at that moment, it was close enough for her.

"Riza? What are you thinking about?"

Riza turned to face her husband, although not nearly as fast as she used to. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, that same smile that was always just for her. "Immortality," she answered him.

She watched as he slowly pushed himself up with his cane, his once dark hair now as white as snow, while her own blonde locks had turned a steely gray.

"Immortality? Now why would you be thinking of that?"

She turned to look back out the window again, knowing that he would be by her side soon. "Do you remember what they said during the Ishvalan Extermination?" she said. "They said that State Alchemists were immortal. They said that alchemists were always looking for immortality." He was beside her, and automatically their hands came together. "But I was thinking—"

"Uh-oh, you're thinking? We're in trouble now." There was that teasing glint in his eye.

"Hush, you!" she said sternly, but the curve of her lips betrayed her. "I was thinking," she began again, and this time he was silent, "that in a way, we're all immortal. Look out there. Look at all of them."

Running around and playing in the yard were children. Nearby groups of adults stood talking, and a few dogs ran around as well. Their children, and their grandchildren. The Elrics, and their children, and their grandchildren. The members of their team, their wives, their children, and their grandchildren. Various other friend and their families too. A mix of races, with Amestrian, Xingese, Ishvalan, and others.

"We're all mortal," she said. "We're all going to pass on. And even what we see right now, it will pass too. But it will be built on, and that will be built on, and that will be, over and over again. We'll never see it, and eventually no one will know it, but it's a legacy that lives on, even when no one knows it's there."

Beside her, Roy was smiling fondly down at them all. "You're right," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "Just like you always are. And if we die tonight, then I'm glad to have left this legacy behind."

Riza smiled at him, reaching over and patting their clasped hands. "We should probably get down there."

Roy offered her his arm, as if they were young and just beginning to date again. "Yes, My Queen. We can't be late to our own 50th wedding anniversary party, can we?"

She laughed. "Sure we can—we're old now. We can do what we want. And we can do it forever."


	3. Day 3: Flashover

Fire was volatile.

That truth was something that Roy knew. It had been drilled into him when he had first learned that his master had been trying to perfect flame alchemy. It had been drilled into him at the academy when they went over rescue procedures. And he had learned it well when he was trying to learn how to control the flame alchemy.

But it could also be exhilarating.

Both had been in place the first time he experienced a flashover.

He wanted to have absolute control before he applied for the state licensing exam. And that meant a lot of practice in various places and environments. Both he and Riza knew it. She had mentioned an old shack that was falling down that had apparently belonged to her grandfather that would be good for practicing indoor precision control. It would be indoors (kinda) but no loss if it burned up, and far enough away from other buildings that if the fire was uncontrollable, it shouldn't reach any of the other buildings. She didn't know exactly what was in it, but anything useful had been taken out long ago.

It had seemed the perfect place to practice, and so they had set to work.

It had gone well at first. He had been able to pinpoint some of the smaller items in there, most of the time keeping the flames from hitting the objects next to them. He didn't always pinpoint it right, but that was what practice was for. Then he decided to try something different, to see if he could make a big explosion indoors without burning it down. And for a moment, it worked. He was able to control it for a moment, until some old cushions caught fire.

And then, within moments, things changed. The heat suddenly increased in the room. There were snakes of fire in the smoke. Riza sensed it at the same time he did, and she let out a strangled "Roy!" and pulled at him. And then, suddenly, everything burst into flame. He and Riza had already been throwing themselves out of the door, but the flames were too fast and the heat too much. Adrenaline coursed through him as he and Riza fell through the door, his only thoughts on protecting her. His fingers snapped and somehow, instinctively, he knew exactly what to do. The flames that raced at them, that made to burn them, retreated at his command, swirling up and out. It wasn't the whole shack, but it was what would have gotten them. It ended at his command, even as they both hit the ground.

The two stared at the cabin and at where the flames been at them only moments ago, the shock just settling in.

"H…how did you do that?" Riza asked him, her eyes wide.

He stared back at her, his own eyes just as wide. "…I don't know."

For a moment, the two stared at each other, the cabin behind them in flames, until a pop was heard from it that startled them out of their shock, something exploding in the cabin. They both turned towards it, and Roy's jaw set. "Let's see what else I can do."

That was the first time that Roy had experienced a flashover, although it was far from the last. He had gotten quite good at causing them in Ishval, not that he had ever wanted that. Over the years he had experienced more, some he caused, some he controlled. But nothing would ever take his breath away like that first one. The unexpected flare of raw uncontrolled power, the fear that rushed through him as it grew out of control, the moment he commanded that power at his fingertips, the rush when he realized that it was his, that power, and the heady feeling of being alive, of protecting the one he loved and her still being there with him. Nothing could ever compare to that first flashover.

At least, not in terms of fire.

Now however, he felt those feelings all over again, only intensified. The object that caused them was different too, not a fire, but something that was just as devastatingly beautiful.

Riza, resplendent in her wedding dress, walked down the aisle.

Roy's heart felt like a flashover had just happened in it. Emotion that had been sitting, quietly burning, suddenly ignited within him, only this time, he was powerless to control it. That flare of raw emotion, the fear that rushed through him as it grew out of control, the knowledge that he would never command this power, the rush that she was now his, the heady feeling of being alive for this moment, and the knowledge that soon she would be at his side, all of that rushed through him.

"Easy, Roy," was murmured from beside him, Jean Havoc, his best man, trying to ground him.

But the sight of Riza walking down the aisle toward him was not so easily quenched. The skirt of the white lace dress rippled around her legs as she walked. Her arms, covered in delicate laces sleeves bent to hold onto a bouquet of lavender, roses, and carnations. The back of the dress was high, giving her a collar that covered the back of her neck, and then turned into a plunging neckline, lower then things she normally wore. A delicate white veil covered her face, but he could see her shinning eyes under it, her soft, pleased smile, the joy radiating off her as she took steps ever closer to him. It stirred emotion in him like he had never felt before.

It was more powerful than any flashover could even dream of being.

And as she walked down the aisle, a smiling and cleaned up Edward Elric escorting her down it, Roy knew. As they stopped before him, and Ed, no longer with any need to stretch up to reach, lifted her veil back for her, Roy knew. As they clasped hands, and waited for the priest to speak, Roy knew.

This flashover of emotion would only grow more powerful each day, and nothing would ever or could ever stop it from growing.


	4. Day 4: Pinned

Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye stood next to each other, at attention, exchanging exactly one look, and only then when they were sure that they wouldn't get caught. They were in full dress uniforms, Roy's pants pressed with crisp lines, and Riza in the long skirt and heels. They both had their dress jackets on, all of the braids, medals and pins on them shining brightly in the lights.

The shiniest of the pins were the newest ones. They others were well kept as well, but time affects even the most carefully kept things. The oldest of the pins were shiny as well, but they had a duller look to them, one that spoke of age and time. Both Roy and Riza had more than a few shinning pins on their uniforms. If you asked them about them, they could tell of each one.

The first ones of Roy's started with the academy, his honors and well-earned cadet awards. They were old, but they somehow had an innocence about them. Their shine seemed to speak of hope, somehow. The one after that was for his certification as a State Alchemist. It was a staunch little metal, seeming to shine with a dull but steady shine. The next ones after that seemed to hold a duller edge to them. They were for service in Ishval. For his bravery as a solider, and for his service as a state alchemist. Those seemed sad, somehow. After that there were ones for bravery in various operations and events. The ones after that seemed bigger than they should be, even though they were the same size. He had been awarded them for his role in the Promised Day, and in protecting the citizens of Amestris from the conspiracy. Then followed ones for an operation here and there, and then the last one, the one for his role in the restoration of Ishval. That one was the shiniest, and seemed to be the proudest.

Riza's were similar, although a bit less then Roy's. Her's started out with a pin from the academy, for her early graduation and promotion. It had a quiet nature about it, although steady, somehow. After that came one for her service in Ishval. That one was dull, although well kept, seeming not to want to stand out. It was fitting both for a sniper, and for her own emotions about her role. After that she some from various operations she had been involved in as well, carrying a sense of duty with them. After that, hers for the Promised Day, for her role is protecting the citizens of Amestris. A pin or two came after that, and then her own one for her part in the restoration of Ishval, the newest, the shiniest, and yet still not flashy somehow.

Both of them had uniforms that were pinned over and over again. Some pins they thought they had earned and wore proudly. Others they were ashamed of, but refused to cover up, if for no other reason than to keep it from happening again. They had been to so many pinning ceremonies as well. Their own, for each other, for friends and family. They'd been to more than their fair share, had to endure the shaking of hands and praising of them when they felt like that hadn't earned the amount of fuss that they were getting. Pinning ceremonies were not something either of them looked forward to. How much they dreaded it depended on what they were getting their pins for.

But this time—this time they couldn't be more proud to be where they were. This time they were going to receive the greatest awards of their lives. And this time they stood straight and proud in their uniforms. They were more than happy to be standing in front of the pinner, although he wasn't known for having the best aim for this, but they'd bear with it.

Even if he did have to stand on a chair to reach the right height.

And his helpers were shorter then him.

And Riza was worried that the kitchen chair was going to tip while he was standing on it.

Because their kitchen floor was not forgiving.

Still, they stood at attention while their oldest son fumbled around and reached for the award. It was clumsily made, but was definitely made by all three of their kids. Larger and clunkier then the others, one said "Beest Mom Evre" and the other said "Beest Dad Evre" and their daughter held them up for their son to take, while holding onto the hand of the youngest brother.

Their son cleared his throat and held up the pin for Roy first. "For bein' the bestest dad ever, 'n' always bein' there when we're scared or upset and grumpy we give you this pin." He reached out and tried his best to pin it on the way he'd seen it done at the ceremony they had all been to just last week. It took him some time, but he managed to, albeit a little crookedly.

Then he turned his attention to Riza. "For bein' the bestest mom ever, 'n' being all snuggly 'n' warm, 'n' makin' sure none of ever gots forgotten when we got a new sissy or brofer, we give you this pin." He was a little quicker than before, but it still took him a few minutes to be able to get the pin on.

Finally he finished and got of the chair, standing with his siblings again. "You've done good work, soldiers. Thank you for your se'vice." He saluted them, and they saluted him back, waiting until he dropped his salute. They had both managed to keep a straight face during the "ceremony" but each could tell that the other was ready to break into a big, amused smiled as their son had mimicked the ceremony from last week.

They finally did as they dropped the salutes, and all of their children broke out into claps and cheers, running forward to hug them. Roy and Riza exchanged grins over the head of their children as they hugged them back, love shinning in their lives. Roy came up from the hugs with their youngest in his arms.

"Well—now that we've been pinned with the best awards we've ever gotten, there's only one thing to do." He looked at Riza, a grin on his face and mischief in his eyes.

She matched his look. "Yes, I supposed you're right. There's only one thing to do. Go out for ice cream."

Her words were met with cheers for all as the children ran off to find their shoes. Roy reached over for her hand, their fingers twining together.

"That," he said, "was the best pinning ceremony I've ever been too."

"Mm," Riza agreed. "The cutest presenter too. I think he might have even been cuter then you."

"Riza, I'm wounded. But I suppose I can forgive you this time." He said with a grin. "Besides, I rather like the way it's pinned on here. It's sideways but it's a little… what's the word? Rakish?"

"Rakish," she confirmed, looking down at her own crooked pin.

"Think they'll let me keep it on here for official ceremonies?" He asked as they began walking towards the front door.

Riza laughed. "I doubt it," she said, then leaned up to kiss him on the cheek "but go ahead and try. I'd rather like to keep it on too."

With a grin they gathered their excited children and headed out the door, proud to wear the new pins they'd been pinned with today.


	5. Day 5: Unfinished Business

He stumbled towards the door, wondering who could be knocking on it so insistently in the middle of the night. It wasn't as if he had been asleep—no, the nightmares and memories wouldn't let him sleep easily—but it was still annoying for someone to be insistently knocking on his door at this time of night.

He swore, if it was another girl come to throw herself on him because his "heroic" actions saved her father/brother/nephew/son/whatever in Ishval he was going to set the place on fire, fake his death and move away until it all died down.

Besides, there was nothing heroic in what he did.

With a scowl he yanked open the door—and stopped cold.

On the other side stood a familiar face, her bangs falling over her eyes, eyes that were just as tired and haunted as his were.

"Hello, Lieutenant Colonel," she said, her voice nearly void of life. "I believe we have some unfinished business."

It hadn't taken long before he had Riza sitting on his couch, two glasses of brandy sitting on his messy coffee table, both untouched as he looked at her. Silence stretched between them, her words explaining why she had come here still hanging in the air between them.

"Riza, I can't," he said.

She stiffened, and her look hardened, but he held up a hand to stall her.

"I can't do it tonight," he continued, "and if you're set on this course, then we'll have to be smart about it."

"I want it gone, Roy," she said, her voice both hard and brittle. "I can't stand it anymore. I want it gone. I don't want anyone else to be able to use me to gain flame alchemy again. I need you to burn it off, or I'll find some other way—even if that means killing myself to do it!"

His heart lept into his throat at that, and he reached out, grasping her shoulder. "No—No Riza, not that, never that. Please… just be a little more patient. I'll do it, but you've got to plan with me. We'll need supplies and a place for you to rest for a while. I… I'll have to go deep. Tattoos don't burn easily. Riza…" he made sure she was looking at him. "…it's going to have to be deep. Second, maybe third degree. I… I don't want to do that to you. Are you certain?"

She looked him in the eyes, many different emotions playing in her eyes, but it was clear she was set on this path.

"Yes."

He did more research on burns then he thought he would ever do. Riza helped him. They were "heroes of Ishval," highly decorated, and the brass was alright with giving them some time off. Roy claimed it was for some research. He also claimed that he needed Riza's help because of her father's knowledge. It wasn't as if the military didn't know about her father and that he was Roy's master. It just wasn't spread around.

They both composed lists of what would be best to get, of what sorts of medical treatments might aid in the healing, and what the process might be like. It was disturbing research, but Roy was determined to do this right. Riza didn't seem as concerned about it, though, and it worried Roy. Still, they pushed on with the research, the path set, and now the preparations underway.

"I can't do your whole back."

"You _Promised!_"

Riza rarely yelled, rarely threw things, but this time she did. She hurled a glass, not caring as she hear it shatter, the heavy bottom of the glass clunking to the floor instead.

"Riza, I can't," Roy protested. "You've read the texts. If I burn that much of your back that deeply there will be problems!

"You have to get rid of all of it!" She demanded it of him, stepping closer to him. "I don't care about any problems! You have to get rid of all of it!"

"I can't!" he insisted.

"You have to!" Her voice was hard, demanding.

"Riza, I can't you'll die!" He roared.

"Then I'll die!" she yelled back.

She watched as, for a moment, he froze. Then a wild look grew in his eyes and he surged towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders. "What do you mean?" he asked, shaking her. "What do you mean by that?"

Riza couldn't help herself anymore. The tears spilled over, emotion she had been bottling up for so long spilling out. "I mean, I don't care if I die!" she said, although there was a lot less heat in it then a moment ago. Her voice was caked with tears and emotion. "I don't care… I don't care… I want to. I want to die, Roy!"

The words spilled from her mouth, words that she hadn't spoken aloud before, not even to herself. But now that they were out, it was like the rest of the dam broke. "I want to die… please… I hurt so many… I don't... Just let me die."

He was looking at her with horrified eyes. "Were you… Were you going… Were you going to-to use me to… to commit suicide? Were you—" his voice stuck for a moment, "—Were you going to let me burn you, and then let yourself die from it?"

Riza couldn't bare that look in his eyes, and she shook her head. "No… No, I was going to get you to burn my back and… and if I lived… then I lived with whatever consequences came. And if I died, then that was what I deserved. I don't deserve a free life anymore."

She suddenly found herself wrapped in Roy's arms, held tightly as he rocked her. She could hear the tears in his voice. "I can't lose you, Riza. I can't. And you—you deserve so much more. I wish I could give it to you. I love you so much and I can't—"

The slowly sank down to the ground, he still holding her, Riza still in shock of what all had just happened.

"I won't do it, Riza. Not while you're like this. You have to want to live. You must live! Defy what your father did to you! Work with me to make sure that another Ishval never happens again! But until you've decided to live again no matter what, I won't burn your back."

For a moment, Riza was still. And then her arms reached up and wrapped around him, and she broke, sobbing on Roy's shoulder as he held and rocked her.

"So what do you think those two are up to?" Victoria grinned as she sat down a tray of empty glasses on the bar, taking them off so that she could put new ones on. Her eyes drifted towards the back where the stairs were—and where Roy and Riza had disappeared to.

"Whatever it is, it's none of your business," Chris Mustang said. "Now go do your job. Roy-boy needs support, not rumors flying."

"Alright, alright," Victoria said with a pout, but headed over towards the table she had been serving, where the men were more than happy to see her, and already beginning to give away more information then they realized.

Her girls were working hard tonight, which was good, because Chris's mind was not here. Roy had been acting odd lately, more serious than normal, and bringing things to leave in the room that was his. He never quite let her see what they were, and she respected his space enough not to push it, but there was definitely something odd going on.

The feeling only grew the more she thought on it, and finally Chris called to Diana, telling her to take over the bar for a bit. Diana agreed, although it was clear that she was curious as to why. Chris ignored the look, and the looks of the other girls, and headed for the back, towards the stairs that led to the living quarters she kept for the girls.

And that was when she smelled it. Burning. Burning skin. And muffled cries of pain.

Chris abandoned any thoughts of privacy and raced up the stairs, bursting into the room she knew it was coming from—Roy's room. She flung the door open, breaking the flimsy lock and not caring one bit. What she saw horrified her. The girl, Riza, was face down on Roy's bed, a gag in her mouth and tears streaming down her face, and unconscious. She was shirtless, and what had Chris's eyes widening in horror was why.

Her back. There were burns, horrible, deep, burns on the back of it, most of them up high towards her left shoulder, a few towards the right and a few lower. Already they were leaking fluids, and the edges on some looked charred.

Roy was there with shaking hands, already trying to apply went rags to the burns, tears on his face as he repeated "Forgive me, Riza! Forgive me!" over and over again.

"What did you do?!"

Chris Mustang's voice echoed in the small room, and he flinched at it, stammering something as she charged forward, running a hand along Riza's forehead. "We'll need to get her to a doctor immediately! Charlotte—"

"No!"

Roy's voice cut across the room, and he was up, closing the door and leaving the three of them in there alone. "No, you can't! That's why we did it here! Her tattoo—we can't let anyone see it!"

That was when it registered with Chris that there was a tattoo under all that mess—or there had been. She looked at it, and then back at Roy. There was a knock at the door.

"Madame?" Charlotte's voice came through the door, clearly confused.

For a moment, Chris was silent. "Charlotte, bring me wet towels and hurry. Four or five of them. And then bring me my book." She waited until she heard Charlotte hurry off before she addressed Roy again. "Alright—we'll start some basic care, but you had better tell me everything that's going on here. And I am bringing a doctor in."

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Roy looked over at Riza in concern, his eyes sweeping over her.

She was in her uniform, although she had gotten into it a bit stiffly. Her burns were mostly healed, although it had taken weeks, and she had some tightness that the doctor had said would probably stay for the rest of her life. Riza counted it worth it.

"Yes. I've already taken enough time off."

He reached out for her hand, giving it a squeeze. "You know, no matter what you choose today, I'll still love you, right?"

She smiled at him. "I know. And I'll love you too."

He looked at her, a bit guilty. "Riza, I—"

She shook her head. "Don't." she said. "I chose this. And I'm going to choose my own path from now on." She squeezed his hand. "I'm not going to be used anymore."

He smiled at her. "Good. I'll support you every step of the way."

"And I'll do the same for you."

The door opened, and Roy looked up from his desk, his eyes widening for a moment, before a slight smile lifted his lips.

"So. You chose this path after all."


	6. Day 6: Revival

Celebration. There was Celebration in the air. Music was playing in the air. You could hear it on every street corner, every block. People were singing, and dancing in the street. Old songs, traditional songs, song that spoke both of sorrow and of joy, all were heard in the air. The wonderful smells of food wafted through the air, the unusual spices mixing with the savory sweetness of all the various foods being cooked and sold in the streets. Toys, jewelry, cloth, clothing, trinkets and treasure, all were being sold in the stalls too, items of celebration and joy. In various places people could be heard breaking out into quotes of scripture, sometimes alone, sometimes with others joining.

Ishval was in revival.

From a building that didn't quite seem to fit in, a little too Amestrian looking when compared to the traditional looking Ishvalan buildings that surrounded it, Roy Mustang looked down at the celebration below. He was proud of the people, proud of what had happened, proud of the rebuilding that had been done. It had been a long hard road, with danger and setbacks, problems at every level, and every step. But it had been done.

The railroad first, food, water, and a hospital next. Then the central command building that the people had hated. Roads came next, then the city sprawled out from there, with the Ishvalans planning it out, with some input from Amestrian experts.

All of them had been distrusted at first, often hated. He knew what they expected, and he refused to become that. Instead, he, his team, and all of his troops had lived like the people—they didn't build quarters until the Ishvalan people had homes instead of tents to live in, and they worked alongside the men every day. It had actually done a great deal for showing how genuine they were in this.

But the one thing that they hadn't accepted his help on was the rebuilding of their temple. That they had done on their own. And now that they had completed it there was celebration. The people were rejoicing, because now they felt that the restoration of Ishval was basically complete.

There were footsteps behind him, but he didn't have to look to see who it was. "Are you going to go down and join in?" Riza asked as she came up beside him. "The high priest said that all were welcome and extended a special invitation to all of the team." She came to stand beside him, and he reached out and took her hand, their fingers twining together. "You know that he considers us like… I don't know Step-children of Ishvala or something," she said with a trace of humor in her voice. "He's considered us that since that day we got married out here."

Roy couldn't help but smile at that memory. They had gotten word that the fraternization regulations had been amended, and that they now qualified to be able to get married. Not wanting to disrespect the people, they had discussed it with the high priest, who had welcomed them to get married then and there under the eyes of Ishvala. They had accepted on the spot.

(Of course, they had had another wedding ceremony back in Amestris later, but that date was the one that they had counted as their wedding day.)

Roy lifted Riza's hand up to his lips, kissing it, turning to look at her. She was already dressed in light casual clothes, wearing some of the jewelry and such that she had been gifted by the Ishvalan women. "You're all ready to go," he said. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Riza stepped up beside him, closer, and leaned her head on his shoulder, her earrings jingling slightly. "Do you remember," she said, "When we were children, and I'd sit there and read that old book for hours on end?"

"The one about all the different countries around Amestris, and their cultures?" Roy asked.

"Mm-hm," Riza nodded. "We used to talk about visiting the other countries and experiencing their cultures, going to their markets, experiencing their celebrations. I always dreamed of it."

"I remember," Roy said. "We had such dreams."

"We did," she said. "It's taken a while, but here we are, in another culture, with a celebration going on." She turned to face him more, and took both of his hands. "Roy… Let's go together. Let's pretend we're teenagers again, or a young married couple. Let's pretend that we're visitors and traveling. For one night, let's just pretend that it's like our dreams came true."

For a moment, Roy hesitated, brooding thoughts swirling around his head. But looking into Riza's eyes, seeing her smile, he couldn't help but drop the thoughts. "Alright. Let's go," he grinned, and kissed her hand again. "Let's pretend to be young and innocent again."

Riza laughed, and led him down the stairs to where she had clothes for him already waiting. In short order he was changed too, and they were out among the other revelers.

The mood of the people was infectious. Joy spread like a fire, jumping from person to person. Greetings were thrown around jubilantly, people laughed, joked, played. They soon spotted the rest of the team, Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery already having been in the crowds for a while. They joined them, laughing and joking, for this night nothing heavy on their minds. They ate together, trying different things from different vendors, laughing at Breda when he got a hold of something too spicy, nudging Fuery towards a dance with an Ishvalan girl, watching as Falman sang along with one of the songs surprisingly well. At one of the groups of musicians, Havoc and Riza danced a dance from their youth that they both had learned in their country towns, Riza's skirts swirling around her as she danced and spun. And then, when the sun went down and the lamps were lit, and the people journeyed towards the temple, they followed along, Roy's arm around Riza's shoulders, holding her close as they listened to the ceremony respectfully, and standing aside as the people entered their new temple to worship.

As their songs rose, heard from outside the temple clearly, Riza leaned her head on his shoulder again. "Your dream…Our dream. This part of it has finally come true."

He kissed her head. "It has." He agreed. He shifted a little, and she looked up at him, sensing that he wanted to say something important to her. "Riza—you know this is only part of my dream. Ishval is restored, but there's a long way to go until we can prevent another Ishval from happening in the first place. Tomorrow I want to make it official. I want to announce my candidacy for Fuhrer. Will you still be with me?"

"Roy, sometimes, you're an idiot," she said, but there was a smile on her face. "I already said I'd follow you anywhere—and now that I'm your wife, that's only doubled."

He smiled and kissed her, and held her close again, even as the team gathered around them and they listened to the songs of the Ishvalans rise. This was a revival for Ishval. But it had revived them as well. And hopefully soon, Amestris itself would be revived into the society it always should have been—not of pointless war, but of a nation for its people. All of its people.


	7. Day 7: Trapped

They were entwined together. Spinning, reaching, somehow never parted, and somehow always touching. It was like a dance, their lives, their hearts, their love. Complex at times, and simple at others, with mixing melodies and harmonies in the background. Sometimes dissonance came from the surrounding music, they were always perfectly in harmony. Trapped together in whirl of life.

It has started young, with distance and missteps and wrong notes. She not wanting to like this city boy that took any chance at her father's affection, he not sure how to relate to his master's daughter. And yet they were still drawn to each other, round and round, stepping forward and back again, this way and that, the dance drawing them closer, and only one other competing score of music to their simple melodies.

But the simpleness faded, and more complexity of their own started up. Talks of the future, talks of the past. Dreams and goals and the brightness ahead swept them up. Dissonance drove them apart, but not dissonance between them, but from an outside source, as he moved forward towards his dreams, and she stayed with her duty. And yet they could never leave each other behind, still moving in unseen steps, coming back together again when the dissonance that had dominated their dance for so long ended abruptly.

And then a quieter but more fervent melody came about, one with sadness peppering it, as they cared for one another, learned about one another, and one gave to the other all she had for the future. The steps then matured more, still hopeful, still rife with promises, growing every more complex. Yet they still managed to stay in step, stay in tune. The pull was too great.

A quiet fading invaded for a bit, as both pursued the dreams they had talked about. One's steps led them to unthinkable horror, while the other didn't realize where the steps she was following would lead. Yet follow them she did, and they led her to horror too. And still they were drawn to each other, the dance growing every more complex, their melodies overlaid with their own horrors and sadness plunging them through. Terrible steps that felt like stumbling, falling things, and not a dance at all moved their feet.

But slowly, even though the time was never forgotten, their steps came back in sync. Still at a distance, still not touching, and yet, always in sync, always aware of the steps that the other was taking. Their simple dance had turned into one that was complex and grand, with others entering in and out of the space between them, trying to keep them apart, while others joined the dance with steps around them, trying to close the gap between the two. The melodies were loud, conflicting, dissonance within them. The steps of the dance were ever more complex, tricky, a single misstep leading to more problems around them.

And yet they danced the dance. They moved with the melodies. They're steps were in sync, and their hearts in harmony with each other. Moving, swirling, caught. They were trapped in this dance of life together, and would gladly stay that way until the dance ended.


End file.
